Of Fire and Stars
by Lorelei Rhiannon
Summary: The journey of an Elven maid from her humble beginnings in Valinor to Beleriand and beyond. Please Read and Review Rated M for mild violence.
1. Chapter 1

All characters and places named are property of J.R.R. Tolkien. I own nothing but my own characters. I don't even own the elvish that they speak! Please Read and Review, your input and question will help make future chapters better.

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All Narwende could think about was how lucky her older sister was. To go from a smithy's daughter to a princess and future Queen of the Noldor was something special. The wedding was grand. There were so many guests in attendance that Narwende thought she might get lost amongst the crowd. Of course, it didn't help that Narwende was smaller than everyone else. While many thought she was simply a child, it was known to the Noldor of Valmar near Aule's forges that she was simply little. Fully grown but two whole heads smaller than a normal elf.

Her father called her Milya, for she had arrived too soon and was quite frail and weak. Narwende was her mother-name. It meant daughter of fire. Narwende was the middle of Mahtan's three children. Nerdanel was the oldest and Narhuine was the youngest. Little Narwende was virtually overlooked within her family until he prince began to court her sister. Minyafinwe Feanaro took to the family as if it had been his own from birth. Once, however, when he had been left alone in the house by Nerdanel, Narwende took it upon herself to befriend the prince. She showed him the many things she had created, stating that her skill with making necklaces and other delicate things were unmatched. It seemed her diminutive stature was useful after all. Her small, skilled fingers could weave a golden chain better than her mother could, even though her father saw little usefulness in her. Feanaro seemed to be impressed with the tiny elf and offered to Nerdanel that Narwende should come to live with them in Tirion once they were wed. Nerdanel spoke to Mahtan about it. Her father, having no use for a child so small and without the physical strength he so admired, gladly permitted Narwende to go, relieved as he was to finally be rid of the girl.

So, after the wedding and wading through a sea of guests and well-wishers, Narwende made her way to where Nerdanel and Feanaro stood. The prince placed his right hand upon her shoulder whilst his left was draped around his new bride. It was a happy day, and there would be many more happy days to follow as Nerdanel gave her husband seven wonderful sons. Narwende adored her sister-sons but Kurufinwe Atarinke was her favorite. She taught him the art of jewels and settings when she was not sequestered with his father in his great workshop. If she had been as wise as her sister, Narwende would have been able to see the tint of jealousy in her sister's eyes whenever Feanaro would announce that he and Narwende had made something new and fantastic. Greatest of all their collaborations were the Palantiri. Eight stones, identical in size and appearance as shining spheres but with slight variations in color and hue ranging from deep green to vivid blue. They were imbued with a magic that made whoever that gazed into them able to see someone that gazed into another, no matter the distance between them. These were gifted to the Teleri on the Isle of Eressea so as to allow them to communicate with Valinor without having to sail thither. Feanaro alone, however, created the three Jewels which the Valar made Holy. These were, indeed, his finest achievement.

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All we well until the fallen Vala, Melkor, was released from the Halls of Mandos. Thus unchained he began to spread lies within the House of Finwe. Some lies were petty and easily dismissed but other were grievous, such as Feanaro believeing thet Nolofinwe was plotting to supplant him to be the next king of the Noldor and that Narwende and not Nerdanel was the mother of Feanaro's young twins, Pityafinwe Ambarto and Telufinwe Ambarussa. Feanaro was furious. The quarrel between the brothers became so great that swords were drawn, thus the Valar had to intervene. For drawing a sword on his kinsman Feanaro was banished from the elven city of Tirion upon the hill of Tuna for twelve years of the Trees. Narwende hadn't gone to the hearing but found out later that her lord and brother had been banished and was distraught. He left the city ere Telperion waxed. Only a short time afterward news came to Tirion that Feanaro had constructed a home in the cliffs of Formenos and was requesting his family to join him. All of his sons gladly packed and went hither as did Narwende. Nerdanel had gotten comfortable in Tirion and refused to follow her husband. The king, Lord Finwe also went hither, much to the surprise of the Noldor. He placed the rule of Tirion into the hands of Nolofinwe, having decided to go live with his eldest and most favored son. For the next ten years of the Trees life went on normally at Formenos.

Word came to Feanaro that he was being summoned to the City of the Valar on the slopes of Taniquetil for the Spring celebration. Also it seemed that Nolofinwe was ready to sort things out; forgive and forget. With his sons out of Formenos wandering Valinor, only Finwe and Narwende were left whilst Feanaor went up to Taniquetil.

All was quiet. That should have been the first clue that something was amiss. Narwende was gathering up things in the forges when the darkness came. The soft, everlasting light of the Trees had gone out. In a panic Narwende screamed. "Stay where you are!" cried out the voice of King Finwe. So Narwende crouched down and his beneath a workbench. Then came the sound. It was dreadful. A horrible screeching pierced the air that echoed from Araman to Avathar. Alone in the dark all Narwende could do was listen as heavy footsteps and the sound of scritching claws drew closer and closer to Formenos. There was a pause, which was nearly deafening, then the sickening sound of iron piercing flesh and a yelp of surprise. Narwende's stomach turned. Then it was silent again. There was a clatter and a crunching from the treasury and then fast retreating footsteps and claws that followed hurried along behind them. It was silent again save the thrumming of Narwende's heart which beat fast as a humming bird's wings. Summoning her courage, the diminutive elf rummaged through the darkness until she found a lantern and lit it. She then sought out her Lord and King.

She found her king at the city gates. He was half sitting half leaning against a pillar of stone. In his lap was an iron box inlaid and overlaid with gold and silver. It was empty. Narwende drew closer. Taking a ragged breath, King Finwe opened his eyes and gazed at her. "Stole. Them." he rasped. "Melkor. Stole the Silmarils." He gasped again, having trouble breathing. Narwende was speechless. She stooped down to take the box from his lap. The King took hold of her wrist. A warm, viscous liquid was on his fingers which transferred to her arm. She could feel it on her skin, sticky warm. Shining her lantern in closer she now saw a large red stain beneath the empty box. The stain, which was blood that came from a single wound just below his ribs, was progressively getting larger, spreading across the front of the King's tunic. Gasping Narwende tried to stem the flow but Finwe pushed her hands away. "Nay, child." said her Lord and King. "This wound. Is mortal. I go now to Mandos' Halls. Finally to be with my beloved Serinde. Namarie." Then Finwe, Lord of Tirion and High King of the Noldor closed his eyes and with a heavy sigh was no more. His fea had fled it's hroa and he was gone.

Narwende pleaded with him to stay, saying "Atar, please! Do not go hence! Atar!" Indeed, since leaving Mahtan's house those of Finwe's house had treated her like blood kin and she had come to love Finwe much like a father. Weeping, Narwende ran from Formenos toward Taniquetil where Feanaor was. She could barely see as she ran, both from the blinding darkness and tears that stung her grey eyes. Taniquetil was a beacon in the darkness. Every elf had a lantern it seemed. The mountain glowed like an ember in the night. Running as fast as she could, Narwende made her way to the City center where elf and Vala alike had gathered. The elves milled around in confusion, murmuring in uncertainty. Above the crowd the small elf-maid could see the golden head of Arafinwe, youngest son of the king and his brothers nearby. Their faces were worried but still serene. Pushing through the throng to where they stood, her small frame finally collapsing at Feanaro's feet, the grief overwhelming her at last. Nolofinwe lifted her up and looked worriedly at his older brother.

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Kneeling down to her Feanaro asked "Sister, what is the matter?" He stroked her face, trying to calm the hysterical elf-maid.

Through her tears Narwende spoke three words that silenced the whole city. "Vanwa ye Tarimma!". A fresh issue of tears and choking sobs escaped her. He turned her face to his.

"How, Narwende? How could this have happened?" His eyes bore deep into hers and she could feel everyone leaning in to hear what else she might say.

"The dark came" she began, trying hard to stem her tears. "Then... the sound, Oh! The sound was awful!" Swallowing more sobs she continued "Claws on the flagstones. And heavy footfall."

A soft, airy voice spoke. "Melkor and his fell servant, Ungoliant the she-spider." Manwe Sulimo himself had knelt beside the diminutive elf. "Go on, little one." he urged.

Narwende swallowed hard, the lump in her throat refusing to go down. Her eyes trained on Feanaro's she went on. "It was an awful sound. Fell and terrible. I heard your father, our king, cry out once in the darkness then there were the sounds of fleeing foot steps followed by a long silence." She sniffed back more tears. "I found him, Lord Feanaro. Your illustrious and noble father is... dead." Unable to hold them back any longer, she began to weep once again. The assembled elves, many of them Noldor, began to wail and keen, the King of the Noldor was dead. Feanaro took the tiny elf into his arms and he too wept. Leaning in she whispered into his ear that Melkor had stolen not only the life of his father but the three Silmarils. Feanaro went stiff. Releasing Narwende he stood up, his face grief stricken and furious.

His voice rang out over the keeing wails of the Noldor, strong and clear like a bell but grave and terrible. "A curse upon Melkor! He, who for ever after shall be called Morgoth. And curse thee Manwe Sulimo for summoning me hence, lest I could have defended my keep and my father's life had been spared!" The new King of the Noldor then fled into the darkness leaving everyone stunned. Gape-mouthed, Narwende rushed after him, her lantern swinging wildly in her hand as she raced.

"Feanaro!" she cried out into the dark. "Minyafinwe Feanaro, please! My Lord and King, wait for me!" He lamplight shone out before her in a golden ray. Soon the hunched shoulders of her brother-in-law appeared. He had stopped for her. She paused beside him and reached her hand up. Placing it on his shoulder was all she could do for there were no words. Silently his hand raised up and lay upon hers. He spoke no words either. After a moment he sighed and moved forward, moving at a walking pace so Narwende could follow.

"Narwende." spoke Feanaro softly as they walked, "When we reach Formenos I want you to gather the armor and weapons of my sons." His voice was even and toneless.

"Yes, Sire." she replied. "My Lord, may I ask why?" Narwende chose her words very carefully, knowing full well how easily angered he was.

"I will answer you in time." the new king said. "For now you must do as you are told."

With a hard swallow, Narwende replied again "Yes, Sire" and nothing more was spoken. She went straight away to the armory to gather what she had been told to then she went to her room and put on her own armor which had been made especially for her by Feanaro as a gift. With all the armor packed in sacks Narwende and Feanaro set out for Tirion. Narwende knew that the twelve year ban had not yet expired and her Lord was breaking a law by going hence but one as small as she did not have the physical strength or fortitude to go against her King. She followed him in relative silence until they reached the shining city. They entered the city and climbed it's winding roads and stairs to the pinnacle, calling out as they went to all who could hear to follow. As she climbed, a strong sense filled Narwende. Unable to discern whether it was fear or foreboding she swallowed it down. In the House of Finwe were all of Feanaro's kin save Indis, the wife of Finwe and her daughters, Findis and Lalwende. There, Narwende saw Nolofinwe and Arafinwe and their children. Also, Feanaor's sons had arrived. Outside were assembled those that had followed. So many had come that their lanterns caused the City to shine like a great gem. Together they all mourned for their lost king and father.

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Vanwa ye Tarimma - The king is dead.


	2. Chapter 2

Again, I do not own anything and use it without express permission. All quotes property of J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs.

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Feanaro had always been a master of words, even inasmuch as perfecting the Tengwar of Rumil. So when he addressed the crowd of gathered Noldor every ear listened intently. *"Why, O people of the Noldor, why should we longer serve the jealous Valar, who cannot keep us nor even their own realm secure from their enemy?" Narwende listened to his words and began to wonder what had happened in Valimar to cause such a spark of hatred for the Valar in her lord and king. Feanaro continued. *"And though he be now their foe, are not they and he of one kin?" Murmurs issued from the assemblage. Many heads nodded in agreement. *"Vengeance calls me hence, but even were it otherwise I would not dwell longer in the same land with the kin of my father's slayer and the thief of my treasure. yet I am not the only valiant in this valiant people. And have ye not lost your king?" The murmurs were getting louder as many more Noldor were swayed by their new King's words of rebellion. *"And what else have ye not lost, cooped here in a narrow land between the mountains and the Sea? Here once was light, that the Valar begrudged to Middle-earth, but now dark levels all. Shall we mourn here deedless for ever, a shadow-folk, mist-haunting, dropping vain tears in the thankless sea? or shall we return to our home? In Cuivienen sweet ran the waters under unclouded stars, and wide lands lay about, where a free people might walk. There they lie still and await us who in our folly forsook them. Come away! Let the cowards keep the city!"

Great was the cheer that went up among the Noldor. Surely. if Valinor is to be dark then it would be better to return to the land of the First Awakening, returning to the kin they had left behind so long ago. Feanaro spoke more, his voice pitched higher now, causing all to listen once more. *"Fair shall the end be, though long and hard shall be the road! Say farewell to bondage! But say farewell to ease! Say farewell to the weak! Say farewell to your treasures! More still shall we make. Journey light: but bring with you your swords." Lord Feanaro gestured to Narwende who then gave her sister-sons the sacks. Each son taking out and putting on his armor. *"For we will go further than Orome, endure longer then Tulkas: we will never turn back from pursuit. After Morgoth to the ends of the Earth! War shall we have and hatred undying. But when we have conquered and regained the Silmarils, then we and we alone shall be lords of the unsullied Light, and masters of the bliss and beauty of Arda. No other race shall oust us!" The masses cheered. Feanaro pulled close his sons and his brother, Nolofinwe and together they swore an Oath so terrible that none dare ever to repeat it. The swore upon the Holy names of Manwe Sulimo, Varda Elentari and Eru Illuvatar that they would pursue with a vengeance any Vala, demon, elf, or any other creature of Arda that should keep from them a Silmaril. Narwende stood, dumbstruck, as her lord and master uttered the words. Nearby, with sullen faces were Arafinwe and his children. All were too shocked to believe what they had just heard.

Regaining himself, Arafinwe spoke to his kinsmen. "Let us not make such a decision in haste. let us give pause and debate the thing before any more lives are irreparable changed."

There was a clamor and an angry voice from within the crowd shouted *"Nay, let us make haste!" to which a raucous uproar of approval erupted so loudly that Narwende had to cover he ears. By the end one tenth of the Noldor elected not to go but remain in Valinor. Among them were Mahtan and Nerdanel. Mahtan had tried in vain to dissuade his only son, Narhuine, from joining the folly of Feanaro but the boy was young and his heart had been turned by the powerful speech of his brother-in-law and King. Nerdanel begged Feanaro to allow her to keep the twins with her in Valinor but he waved her off with a dismissive hand. He hadn't even lifted his face to look upon hers as she tearfully begged him for the lives of her beloved sons.

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Mahtan approached his younger daughter cautiously. "Milya, what say you? Will you leave this, the land of your birth, your mother and sister, verily even myself?"

Sharp and biting were Narwende's words in response. "Yea father. Now at the end of things, when great deeds are being done and decisions are being made that will effect the future of our race for ever, now is when you come to me as a loving father? You come to me with love, you, who have treated me as lesser since the day I was born? You, who have never given praise to a single work of my hands. Nay father, I would not remain with you even if we were stranded at sea in a boat. I would rather dive into the bitter, treacherous sea and forsake my hroa than spend another moment with one who only wishes to keep me here as a pet! Good bye, Atar." Turning sharply Narwende walked away from her father, never pausing and never looking back. Dumbstruck, Mahtan could only stand and watch his child walk away from him.

"If you hadn't treated her like a burden and an embarrassment, she would be staying." came a voice from behind the smithy. Atarinke, fourth son of Feanaro stood there, his face scornful. "Forgive me Grand father," he began, " but you have called her weak by the very name you have given her. You denied her praise and affection. It is a wonder to me how such a tender, kind fea was raised under the same roof with such scorn. When our own mother, verily her sister, deserted us upon our father's exile, she remained. She cared for my brothers and I as though we were her own offspring. It was she that dressed us, fed us and tended to our needs whilst our mother was sculpting. Such a mother she will make one day. It is a pity that my father chose Nerdanel instead of her for I wish that she was indeed my mother. My father has, from the beginning, had her trust and allegiance, and dare I say even her love! Begone! It is you, grandfather, that are weak. Return thence to your workshop for Tirion is yours now. Tirion belongs to the cowards." Atarinke in his turn walked away leaving a belegured Mahtan to soak up what had just been said to him.

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Yes, that one was short but there is more to come.

Note: All quotes designated with an asterisk * are directly quoted from the book "the Silmarillion"


	3. Chapter 3

Generic disclaimer: Nothing is mine but Narwende. Yada Yada.

Again, all quotes with asterisks are directly, verbatim form the book, used for flavor and filler Enjoy!

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Those Noldor that were leaving had assembled at the city walls. There they hoped to get more encouragement from their king. Instead there appeared on the mountain side the herald of Manwe. His face was grave and his eyes pierced the crowd. "A message I bring forth from the Elder King." spoke the herald. "Sayeth Manwe Sulimo: *"Against the folly of Feanaro shall be set my council only. Go not forth! For the hour is evil, and the road leads to sorrow that ye do not foresee. No aid will the Valar lend you in this quest; but neither will they hinder you; for this ye shall know: as ye came hither freely, freely shall ye depart. But thou Feanaro Finwe's son, by thine oath are exiled. The lies of Melkor thou shalt unlearn in bitterness. Vala he is, thou sayest. Then thou hast sworn in vain, for none of the Valar canst thou overcome now or ever within the halls of Ea, not though Eru whom thou namest had made thee thrice greater than tho art."

Many Noldor began to whisper to one another. Doubt had taken them. But Feanaro, by the gift of Eru, was better at handling a crowd than was the herald of Manwe. He strode to the forefront of the assemblage and addressed his people. *"So! Then will this valiant people send forth the heir of their king alone into banishment with his sons only, and return to their bondage? But if any will come with me, I say to them: Is sorrow forboded to you? But in Aman we have seen it. In Aman we have come through bliss to woe. The other now we will try: through sorrow to find joy; or freedom at the least." Cheers and shouts came from the crowd. Feanaro then turned his attention to the herald of Manwe. Straightening himself, armour gleaming in the lantern light, Minyafinwe Feanaro, sone of Miriel Serinde and Finwe spoke: *"Say this to Manwe Sulimo, High King of Arda: If Feanaro cannot overthrow Morgoth, at least he delays not to assail him, and sits not idle in grief. And it may be that Eru has set in me a fire greater than thou knowest. Such hurt at the least will I do to the Foe of the valar that even the mighty in the Ring of Doom shall wonder to hear it. Yea, in the end they shall follow me. Farewell." Then, standing there, defiant, Feanaro waited for a reply. No word spoke the herald; he simply bowed his head in acknowledgement and turned away from Tirion.

The Noldor left the great city of Tirion upon the hill of Tuna in the darkness and journeyed out toward the unknown. Narwende trotted near Feanaro as they made their exodus. Time had ceased for there was no light to measure against the darkness. Before long, however, the dim, silvery light of Alqualonde became visible up ahead. Reaching the haven more swiftly than the other hosts of the Noldor, those led by Nolofinwe and Arafinwe, Feanaor was first to treat with Olwe, Lord of Alqualonde and King of the Teleri. He asked for the Telerin Swan Ships and rowers for to ferry the exiled Noldor to the shores of Middle-earth. Lord Olwe took council with his advisors and soon came to an answer. No, the Noldor could not use the White Swan Ships of the Teleri for any purpose. Feanaro railed against the King of the Teleri. *"You renounce your friendship, even in the hour of our need. yet you were glad indeed to receive our aid when you came last to these shores, fain-hearted loiterers, and well nigh empty handed. In huts on the beaches would you be dwelling still, had not the Noldor carved out your haven and toiled upon your walls."

Narwende, having accompanied her brother-in-law and king, could hardly believe her ears. Feanaro had lost his mind! Olwe was perfectly within his right to refuse the ships to the Noldor, this she knew. But Olwe, who was not one to start a quarrel, spoke calmly and evenly to Feanaro. *"We renounce no friendsip. But it may be the part of a friend to rebuke a friend's folly. And when the Noldor welcomed us and gave us aid, otherwise then you spoke: in the land of Aman we are to dwell for ever, as brothers whose houses stand side by side. but as for our White Ships: those you gave us not. We learned not that craft from the Noldor, but from the Lords of the Sea; and the white timbers we wrought with our own hands, and the white sails were woven by our wives and our daughters. Therefore we will neither give them nor sell them for any league or friendship. For I say to you, Feanaro son of Finwe, these are to us as are the gems of the Noldor: the work of our hearts, whose like we shall not make again." Not once had Lord Olwe raised his voice nor did he use a harsh tone or words of anger. Instead he spoke as a father speaks to a beloved son.

Fuming, Feanaro stormed out of the meeting leaving Narwende behind. She smiled weakly at the Lord Olwe and hurried after her Lord and King. She had almost caught up with him as he was rejoining his host. She stopped cold, her blood freezing in her veins when she heard the words of malice that he spoke thus to his people. "Noldoli, to arms!" he cried. "The Teleri refuse to give us aid, we who have given more aid to them and are far more deserving of their ships than they! Therefore let us take by force what is by rightfully, ours!" A chill rushed through the little elf. It was as if her very fea shuddered in its hroa. The host of Feanaro cried out for blood and, with swords raised, marched into Alqualonde, fully prepared to cut down any that stood in their way, such was the Oath that they had taken.

The battle was bloody. Lives were lost on both sides. Twice the Teleri had thrown back the forces of Feanaro when the host of Nolofinwe arrived. Unlearned of why or how the battle started they jumped into the fray, battling their kinsmen for a reason unknown to them. Findekano, eldest son of Nolofinwe led the charge and slew many Teleri as he came to the aid of Maitimo, eldest son of Feanaro, and his dearest friend. Once more the Teleri threw back the Noldor but together the host of Noldor was greater and they succeeded in taking eight of the splendid white Swan Ships. Narwende, overwhelmed by the show of violence had hidden herself in the rocky shoals by the haven and wept. When the cries of battle had stopped and only the weeping of women could be heard from the cave houses of the Teleri did a hand take hold of the little elf, pulling her to her feet. Atarinke took the elf-maid in his arms and carried her on board his own ship and set her on a blanket. The main host of the Noldor would not fit aboard the ships so they went on foot along the shores while Feanaro and his sons sailed the ships northward. Toward the darkness of Araman and in the direction of Morgoth's flight.

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Author's note: I wish I had the right font so the stress marks and accents could be there.. but alas, I do not so use your imagination. They're there on my rough draft pen and paper copy!


	4. Chapter 4

I own nothing good, only Narwende belongs to me. Please, let me know what you think!

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For time unmeasured they sailed in the dark with only the stars to guide them. At the last they came to moor near the shores of Araman and Feanaro and his sons took to the shore to discuss the next move. Narwende, too exhausted from crying, stayed aboard the ship and slept. The air here was thin and cold and it hurt to breathe so Narwende pulled the blanket up over her face and drifted into a restless sleep. Twice she awoke to find her King still on the shore, sitting around a fire with his brothers and sons. The flickering embers of the fire illuminated the mountains in sharp contrast. To the north lay a blueish glow. What it was, Narwende did not know. As she was laying back down she heard a voice from the shore cry out "Lo! Upon the Mountain!" Standing back up she spied there upon the side of the snowcapped mountain stood a tall figure cloaked in darkness. When he spoke his voice was deep and terrible. It put fear into Narwende's heart.

*"Tears unnumbered ye shall shed; and the Valar will fence Valinor against you, and shut you out, so that not even the echo of your lamentation shall pass over the mountains. On the House of Feanaro the Wrath of the Valar lieth from the west unto the utmost east, and upon all that will follow them it shall be laid also. Their Oath shall drive them, and yet betray them, and ever snatch away the very treasures that they have sworn to pursue. To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well; and by treason, shall this come to pass. the Dispossessed shall they be for ever. Ye have spilled the blood of your kindred unrighteously and have stained the land of Aman. For blood ye shall render blood, and beyond Aman ye shall dwell in Death's shadow. For though Eru appointed you to die not in Ea, and no sickness may assail you, yet slain ye may be, and slain ye shall be" by weapon and by torment and by grief; and your houseless spirits shall come then to Mandos. There long shall ye abide and yearn for your bodies, and find little pity though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you. And those that endure in middle-earth and come not to Mandos shall grow weary of the world as with a great burden, and shall wane, and become as shadows of regret before the younger race that cometh after. The Valar have spoken."

Cries arose from the shore that rang out into the night, but once more Feanaro spoke out against the Valar. Standing high upon a stone he spoke loud and clear. *"We have sworn, and not lightly. This Oath we will keep. We are threatened with many evils, and treason not the least; but one things is not said: that we shall suffer from cowardice, fro craven or the fear of cravens. Therefore I say that we will go on, and this doom I add: the deeds that we shall do shall be the matter of song until the last days of Arda."

Many elves stood firm, determined to keep their oaths and stand by their king such was their devotion to Feanaro, but Arafinwe, youngest son of Finwe arose and silently turned his back on his eldest brother and began to walk back toward Valinor. From her vantage point on the Swan Ship Narwende watched as first a few, then many more Noldor, more than half of the host, silently turned to follow him, their heads hug in shame as they went. There by the light of a lantern upon the shore she spotted her brother, Narhuine. He was leaving her alone, last of her kin to go into exile with her, aside from the sons of hr sister. Feeling emotion well within her Narwende wanted to go with him but her love for her sister-sons was greater. Nerdanel's children needed her, she was certain of it. So still she stayed until the lantern lights disappeared into the southern darkness. Sitting back down she wondered if, when the time came, the Valar would take her love into account for what she did. She had not slain her kindred nor had shesworn the oath but she indeed still followed Feanaro. With a sigh, the small elf-maid lay her head down and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

When she awoke Atarinke was aboard the ship and the blue glow was nearer to them. They had gone further north while she slept. "What now shall we do?" she asked her favorite son of Feanaro. "Ahead lies a great ice and there are only eight ships, not enough to ferry us all over the Sea at once. What does your father choose to do?"

Atarinke just shrugged. "I do not know. Go back to sleep my Mother-sister. Time will come when we will have little opportunity for rest." He patted her hair, which was copper colored like his mother's and traced the line of her face with a finger. "Might as well, while you can. I will keep watch."

Again Narwende drifted to sleep. But this time she dreamed of being a bird and flying above the clouds, the stars so close she could touch them and the world below covered by grey clouds, untouchable. Her worries had faded and the soft voice of Irmo, the Lord of Dreams spoke in her mind, telling her not to give up on her innocence. "Sweet be thy dreams little one for in dreams are we free to go hither and thither. The Aran Einior knows of your sacrifice and The One sees your true self. There is yet more to you than even you yet know. Now, little one, awaken. The time has come." Being jolted away by a pile of white rope falling upon her head, Narwende sat up and rubbed her eyes.

"Where are we?" she asked groggily. "How long have we been sailing?"

"We have not been sailing too long. We are nearly there." Said Atarinke from above her. "We stole away whilst everyone else was asleep." Narwende got to her feet and gazed out into the darkness. The soft silhouette of a shoreline was visible just ahead. Part of her was anxious and another part of her was afraid. Afraid of the horror and sorrow that lay ahead of her that the Valar had doomed her people to endure, but also anxious for the promise of a better life in wide free lands as Feanaro had said. There were unlimited possibilities. So much lay ahead of her that the grief of what had happened in Formenos and Alqualonde drifted to the back of her mind. With the wind in her auburn hair and the stars above twinkling like diamonds Narwende, in spite of the curse of Mandos, had hope. The eight Swan Ships sailed into an inlet and the moored them on the beaches. Feanaro called for everyone to disembark. So Atarinke and Narwende gathered all the supplies they had on board and brought everything onto the shore. As her foot squished into the wet sand Narwende, Mahtan's daughter step foot for the first time upon the soil of Middle-earth.


End file.
